


Façade

by Nadare



Category: Hannibal (TV), 寄生獣 | Kiseiju | Parasyte
Genre: Alternate Universe, Creature Fic, Crossover, Don't Have to Know About Parasyte, Gen, Hannibal is Hannibal, Implied Cannibalism, Manipulative Hannibal, Memory Alteration, One-Shot, What-If, Will Graham Has Encephalitis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 18:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13687728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadare/pseuds/Nadare
Summary: "Will realized that the monster was wearing Hannibal’s clothes. He remembered hearing rumors about a kind of creature that took over a person’s brain with a peculiar taste for human flesh, but with no evidence to confirm their existence, Will had dismissed them as mere stories. Just far-fetched science fiction. Not so now."





	Façade

_A/N: “Hannibal” and “Parasyte” seem like such a natural combination, I’m very surprised it hasn’t been done before. The only canon I’m throwing out is the fact that when parasites drink alcohol, they can lose control of their human features. Everything else remains unchanged._

{Set just before “Rôti,” episode 11 of the first season, because the crossover wouldn’t work otherwise.}

[Written on and off 1/10/18 to 2/13/18]

\------------------------------

**_“Façade”_ **

_Hannibal/Parasyte One-Shot_

Will had come over to Hannibal's to talk, but his avoidance of sleep was fast catching up with him. Fear of where he could wake up kept him from his own bed, drinking copious amounts of coffee to stay awake. Despite that, Will was still tired, fatigue dragging at his bones. What was even worse was that he knew he would lose the war. Its victory was inevitable.

Will’s head bobbed once in his seat, the world momentarily dark, and he caught himself near unconsciousness. Stubbornly, he fought it, feeling like a kid near bedtime, insisting they could stay up longer if only they were given permission. 

 “Will,” Hannibal called out softly, his voice close by, startling Will for an instant as he realized Hannibal was standing in front of him. “If you wish to sleep until dinner is ready, you can.”

Hannibal touched the top of his head and Will was surprised at how warm Hannibal’s hand was. “Sleep. You're perfectly safe here.” His dreams begged to differ. Though they couldn’t hurt him physically, their disturbing nature did nothing to comfort him during the daylight hours.

“I sweat a lot sometimes, I'll ruin your couch,” Will said, forcing his eyes open. Hannibal’s hand moved onto his jawline, cupping his right cheek as he knelt before Will.

“Such things can be easily cleaned. Don't fight it, Will. Sleep does wonders for overly stressed minds. I will be here if you attempt to wander off.”

Hannibal's unrelenting gaze was hypnotic, dark eyes all but lulling Will to close his own. His chin dropped to his chest and Will was vaguely aware of someone lifting him up. He didn't think Hannibal was that strong, but looks could be deceiving.

Laid out on what felt like a soft bed after a few minutes, Will flopped onto his right side, acutely aware of his heartbeat. “Thank you,” he said softly, Hannibal’s shadow looming large within the room, lingering on the tip of Will’s senses regardless of his exhaustion.

“Rest well.” A floorboard creaked in the hallway, announcing Hannibal’s departure. Will listened to his heart slow to a languid rhythm, and between one heartbeat and the next, Will was gone, his mind taking a well-deserved rest.

 

For once, his subconscious decided not to torture him. Perhaps he had worn his brain out due to being awake for hours on end. Will opened his eyes, looking up at a ceiling that wasn’t familiar. The room was dark and Will waited until his night vision kicked in to fling out a hand towards the nightstand on his left. The lamp blinded him when he turned it on and he winced, scanning the lavishly decorated room that screamed sophistication and a considerable amount of money.

Much different than his own house where everything served a purpose and practicality was the order of the day. Will slipped off the bed, visiting the bathroom to stare into the mirror at his ragged looking appearance. Even with the rest he’d managed, there were still bags under his eyes and his forehead was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. A headache made its presence more than felt as it pulsed insistently right behind Will’s eyes.  

Will searched the bathroom drawers, eventually finding a bottle of pain relievers. He dry-swallowed one caplet and looked out the window. The sun was long gone. It’d been mid-afternoon when he’d driven over to Hannibal’s house. How long had he been asleep? There was no clock in sight and Will moved to the top of the staircase. “Hannibal?”

He abruptly stumbled, luckily bumping into the right side of the stair railing, saving himself a nasty fall. A bead of sweat slid down his face and Will leaned against the wall, taking a moment to rest before he dared to traverse the stairs. He was running hot again, sure he’d left his fair share of perspiration on Hannibal’s no doubt expensive bedsheets. Had he caught some flu bug unknowingly? 

When he felt like he could walk without falling, Will preceded down the stairs with caution, reaching the main floor. The lights were on in the kitchen, Will thinking nothing of entering the room, stopping short, his feet suddenly lead. He stood in the doorway mutely, too shocked to even indulge the fight or flight instinct that screamed at him. The sight before Will’s eyes strained incredibility.

Where there had once been the head of a human body was a giant deformed maw of teeth and multiple tendrils, which were stretched all over the kitchen, some of the strange limbs ending in faux fingers or sharpened blades. Long thin eyestalks poked out from the sides of the neck, all directed towards the kitchen counters.

Will must have made some kind of sound because the tendrils, previously busy chopping multiple ingredients paused, rising in interest. Like one of his nightmares come to life, the monster turned to face Will in all its terrible glory. Reading emotion or intent was impossible without a face to guide him.

He felt fully aware, but Will’s mind had played tricks on him before. For all he knew, he was still seated in Hannibal’s common room, his eyes open, but unseeing. Chances were high he was having yet another episode, and would eventually wake up to find himself elsewhere, time lost to him yet again.

Will realized that the monster was wearing Hannibal’s clothes. He remembered hearing rumors about a kind of creature that took over a person’s brain with a peculiar taste for human flesh, but with no evidence to confirm their existence, Will had dismissed them as mere stories. Just far-fetched science fiction. Not so now.    

“Hannibal?” The name was whispered, Will’s voice cracking midway through it.

A mouth opened up at the end of one of the limbs. “I expected you to sleep through the night.” There was no doubt it was Hannibal’s voice. In such a demonic visage, Hannibal wasn't acting any different than normal. That was the worst part of it.

Will rubbed his eyes, but the image in front of him didn't change in the slightest once he put his arm down. “I expect you're curious as to what's going on,” Hannibal said, the various tentacles and eyestalks about him retracting, coming to meld above his neck. Everything liquefied until it was solid once again, Hannibal adopting his usual human guise. “Please take a seat and I'll explain. It will be easier talking to you using this appearance.”

Convinced he was losing it again and hallucinating, Will shrugged mentally and decided to embrace the strange experience. It would be over soon enough anyway. He took a seat at the counter, right across from the thing that wore Hannibal’s face. His heart was still running wild on him. Underneath the counter where Hannibal couldn’t see, Will gripped his jeans tightly. 

“The man you know as Hannibal Lecter hasn’t existed for some time,” Hannibal expounded, casually dumping minced vegetables off a cutting board and into a plastic container like he wasn’t talking about the murder of his host body. “Not since the day I took over his brain.”

“What are you?”

“Nothing in nature matches my biological makeup.”

“Alien then?” It was absurd, but the more Hannibal talked, the more Will came to realize that whatever the thing was, it had the same personality as Hannibal. Despite the nightmare fuel appearance he’d glimpsed, this was what Will had befriended and confided in for months. Hannibal had kept his darkest secrets and provided comfort when Will believed there was none to be had every week after seeing what horrors humanity wrought.

“There's no evidence that confirms or denies such a theory.” Hannibal tilted his head slightly. “Your pulse is slowing, are you calmer now?” Will nodded, Hannibal’s mouth quirking into a quick smile. “Your adaptability is very convenient. The conversation will flow smoother if you're not terrified or restrained in any matter.”

“Speaking from past experience?” As if knowing too much would tilt the scales from acceptable to freaky, the very back part of Hannibal's head parted, two long tendrils extending backward to continue work on what had to be a very late dinner. Most likely for Will since no one left Hannibal's house hungry if he could help it.

“I've had my fair share of encounters.” Hannibal's strange appendages were extremely dexterous, moving fast and efficiently, wasting no movement.

“So Tobias Budge wasn't the first man you've killed?”

Hannibal made what could have been a chuckle under his breath. “No, and I suspect he won't be the last.”

Will saw what looked like a meat patty hit the frying pan on the stove, the hot sear loud. “Was he one of you?”

Hannibal gave him a sharp look, one eyebrow arching. “Yes, he was. Unfortunately, despite our similarities, we came to blows. Our philosophies were too far removed from each other. Too reckless and arrogant for my tastes.”

Will knew he was only getting half the story, but didn’t want to push. He was more curious about other matters. “Why did you decide to remain as Hannibal? You could be anyone you want,” Will said, his stomach perking up at the smell of cooked meat wafting in the air.

“You sound jealous,” observed Hannibal, one of his extremities lost within a cabinet.

Will laughed morosely to himself. “I won't deny the idea doesn't hold a certain charm. Loosening the moral chokehold Jack has around my neck would be nice at times.”

 “I imagine it would.” Hannibal turned to the stove, flipping the meat over with a spatula, using one of his hands. Other thin tapered parts of him were busy mixing things inside steel bowls. Will couldn’t help but stare at Hannibal’s misshapen head, the chunks taken out of the back of it numerous. It looked like very solid flesh. If Hannibal noticed Will’s lingering scrutiny, he chose to ignore it.

“To answer your own inquiry, I was fascinated by your world. When I first became aware of myself and what I was, I had to know everything. At first, being a surgeon was entertaining, but every human body had essentially the same framework. I grew…bored with the monotonous work until encountering a woman who’d stabbed herself in the stomach for no discernable reason.

“I wondered how she could be so different from the others. A colleague mentioned she was likely mentally ill. Invisible diseases. Was there no end to humanity’s flaws? I began studying psychology, finding a whole new field of challenges and mysteries to solve.”

Hannibal locked eyes with Will, entirely serious in his candor and body language. “It eventually led me to you, Will. A personal victory if you must know.”

Will scoffed as he broke eye contact, uncomfortable with the intense attention Hannibal paid him. “Because I'm such a prize?”

“You are truly unique in this world,” Hannibal insisted. “Learning what makes you tick has been a singular pleasure. Never forget that.” He placed a plate in front of Will, who looked curiously at the beautiful spread of food.

“A short rib viande hachée topped with a fig and caramelized onion jam and sliced Beaufort D'Ete cheese. Served with dry aged truffle pommes frites fried in duck fat.”

“You made me a burger and fries?”

Hannibal sighed, as close to rolling his eyes as Will had ever seen. “Hardly anything so mundane, but if you must think of it in simple terms…yes.”

Will couldn't help grinning. “And there's the Hannibal I know. Well, better than I used to anyway.” He took a bite of the glorified hamburger. The meat was soft and tender, cooked to a flawless medium rare. The sweet and savory jam was nothing but complementary to the cheese, the combo of ingredients bringing all his tongue buds to life. Everything was perfect. As usual.

Will took his time chewing before he swallowed, wanting to make it last. “This is amazing.” Hannibal inclined his head, seeming pleased Will enjoyed it. He left Will to finish the meal, cleaning up some of the kitchen as he waited. Even the fries were rich and delicious. Will regretted eating the last bit of potato on the plate.

Hannibal grabbed the empty plate once it was clear Will was done. “Was it sufficient for a last meal?”

Will went still, his mouth suddenly dry. “What?” The two thick limbs shifting behind Hannibal went motionless before his face split through the middle, opening to reveal a large row of teeth. Before he knew was happening, Will found himself slammed roughly against the wall, the breath knocked out of him. His hands were restrained above his head, Hannibal’s extremities steely tight in their grip.  

Hannibal easily vaulted the kitchen counter, approaching Will slowly. One of the many bladed appendages about Will hovered half a millimeter from his throat. He swallowed and winced as the slightest edge of the limb cut into the side of his neck. A trickle of blood ran into his shirt collar.

Will trembled against the wall, his heartbeat exceptionally loud in his ears. It was a familiar feeling and Will began to disconnect, the vision before him going spotty and dim. For once, he was glad it was happening.

“No.” The blade against his throat retracted, rising high into the air, Will’s breath ragged as Hannibal studied him intently. There was curiosity within the single human eye that remained in his alien face. “That would be such a waste given you’re such an interesting human being. I need ample time to study you after all.”

Will blinked once and had magically teleported, seated at the kitchen counter again. “Will, I need you to look at me.” Hannibal's voice sounded tinny as if it was coming from a long distance. Even though he could clearly see Hannibal standing across from him, composed as ever. “Excellent. Listen to my voice and relax.”

Will's hand slid off the counter unbidden, his vision going narrow and tunnel-like. His other hand followed and his muscles went slack one by one. His shoulders slumped, his weight redistributing on the chair, the front legs lifting, beginning to tilt backward before settling.

Hannibal's words were soft and now nearly indistinguishable, so much background noise. The lights in the kitchen became brighter, flashing slowly, almost blinding him. “Close your eyes,” Hannibal suggested in a sotto voice, Will's eyelids dropping straightaway. “You're not going to remember this. A shame given you're the first human who wholly accepted me.”

Will could barely move his lips but managed, “…’Course...you're my friend.”

He could hear the smile in Hannibal’s voice as he replied, “I can't wait to see what you’ll do next.” Cool and silent darkness claimed him.

 

Pain radiated from the back of his head and Will groaned. Someone placed a hand behind his back, helping him up from what Will realized was the floor. He went to put a hand on the side of his neck and grimaced as he discovered a small cut, its sting sharp.  

“You were sleepwalking,” Hannibal explained, handing Will a tissue to starch the bleeding from the wound. “I was doing some prep work in advance for tomorrow’s dinner and you walked right into my knife before I could stop you. I felt it wise to let you wake up naturally after you passed out rather than risk further injury to your person.”

His vision swam for a moment, Hannibal’s face broken up into lines of teeth, blades, and eyes, then the nightmarish apparition was gone. True to his word, two cutting boards sat on the kitchen counter, a large bunch of half-diced kale and what seemed to be golden beets littering their surfaces. “I’m sorry, I don’t…I don’t remember.”

Patience was written in every line of Hannibal’s face and Will leaned on him for a moment longer than necessary, needing the cool comfort he always exuded. As was typical, Will brought nothing but trouble to Hannibal’s life. His underarms were wet and sweat glistened on his forehead, threatening to fall at any moment. Another fever in a long line of them.

It was late, nearly eleven o’ clock and Will wondered where all the time had gone. “I should go, I don’t feel well.”

“You could always stay until morning,” Hannibal offered as Will started out of the kitchen. “Especially if you’re feeling poorly.” He wanted to say yes but felt it could quickly become a slippery slope. Besides, there was something about Hannibal that put Will ill at ease, though he couldn’t put his finger on it exactly.  

Grabbing his jacket from the coatrack, Will turned to look at Hannibal, managing a grateful smile. “Sorry for worrying you.”

Hannibal shook his head, an unexpected warmth in his gaze. “Think nothing of it. I'll always be here for you.”

He nodded and slipped through the front door. Hannibal's parting statement was meant to be comforting, but Will was instead unsettled by it. Maybe it spoke to how far off the reservation he'd gone. If someone he considered a close friend couldn't even help him, how lost was he? If darkness was all he would ever see again, Will would learn to navigate it. It was that or perish.

The strange thing was that though he hadn’t eaten for hours, Will wasn't the least bit hungry. A phantom taste remained on his tongue, cloying and rich.     


End file.
